


Best Laid Plans

by iniquiticity



Category: Hamilton - Miranda
Genre: Jefferson is an Ultimate Asshole, M/M, Non-Consensual Touching, Period-Appropriate Homophobia
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-11-25
Updated: 2015-11-25
Packaged: 2018-05-03 07:32:17
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,179
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5282186
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/iniquiticity/pseuds/iniquiticity
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>He knew what he saw, and he had a plan to address it. </p><p>He should have known from his time in the army that no plan ever worked out.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Best Laid Plans

**Author's Note:**

  * For [anna_unfolding](https://archiveofourown.org/users/anna_unfolding/gifts), [adoreu](https://archiveofourown.org/users/adoreu/gifts).



> None of you know how much fun it is to write Ultimate Dickhead Thomas Jefferson as played by Daveed Diggs. Oh my god. I love Ultimate Dickhead Thomas Jefferson. 
> 
> Also, I did add the "nonconsenual touching" tag, but it's an extremely light and not really important part of the story. Hope that helps.

**

Alexander knew. He recognized the touching and the glances and the way they moved as one. He knew what it meant to touch another man’s side as you brushed against them. He knew what that gaze was like, the soft expression on one man’s face as he looked at another. He could spot the way they fell into step with one another for what it really was. After all, he could spot his own. And although it had been some time, it was as familiar as it always had been. His sense had not changed, nor had the actions it could discern as less-than-innocent. Be it an army camp or the first Congress of their new nation, barely named - some things were always the same.

Part of him knew this was a bad way to go about things. He had his own rumors, of course, but nothing had - or could - ever be substantiated. It had been a long time since since he had made related trouble. The man who had gotten him into such trouble was gone. He squeezed the empty pit in his stomach smaller and concentrated on the task at hand. 

He needed those votes, and if those two thought he would stop at anything to get them -- 

He sucked in a breath to gather his courage, looked up and down the hallway to make sure no one was coming, and pressed his ear to the closed door of Thomas Jefferson’s office. He heard the sound of a sharp gasp and the clunk of boots. He closed his eyes and counted to three. Then, in one sharp motion, he opened the door, stepped inside, and closed the door behind him.

He was right. 

Madison was seated on Jefferson’s desk, stripped down to only his breeches, shoes, and socks. His bare skin was slick with sweat despite the cold, and his chest was heaving with each breath. He stared at Hamilton in horror, both hands behind him, as if to break his fall. 

Jefferson had twisted to face him, although he had been clearly looking at Madison at the time Hamilton had opened the door. The man’s jacket and vest had been discarded, and his undershirt was partially unbuttoned, but still very much on. Hamilton could see, even against Jefferson’s dark skin, a splotchy, dark circle at his neck, where his cravat would usually cover. 

For about two seconds, Jefferson’s eyes went wide with terror, and Hamilton felt victory pulse through his veins. This was it. It truly was this easy. All he had to do was make the threat, and the two of them would round up their posse that was holding the whole nation hostage and bend to his will. Then, he would bring the country, kicking and screaming southerners included, into a new golden age of American success. 

Then Jefferson’s lips curled into an annoyed frown, and his characteristic calm overtook the fear. 

Hamilton knew then that it was not going to be that easy as he originally thought. Nothing ever was. 

“They didn’t teach you to knock on whatever island spat you out in disgust?” Jefferson said, turning fully to face him and crossing his arms across his chest. “Or did you just forget while you were out cavorting in the army?” 

“There is not a lot of time for _cavorting_ while you are hungry and freezing and fighting for the independence of the country of which you are now a proud member of. Or did you forget who was holding the bayonet while you were sitting in Parisian luxury?” Alexander snapped, unable to stop himself from rising to the bait. No. He clamped down, and took a step back against the closed office door to wrangle his anger under control. He would not let Jefferson get to him. 

“I seem to recall a great amount of French aid coming to the rescue of our troops. I wonder if the ambassador helped at all to acquire that? I’m certain that he did. In any case, given that you had responsibility in the army, I can’t find it in me to be surprised you suffered so much.” Jefferson idly began to re-button his shirt. “Somehow, it seems almost too much like the mess you intend to drag this country into with your new financial plan.” 

Alexander clenched his fists at his side and ground his teeth together. He was going to do it. “If you don’t help me out, I’ll reveal this --” He pointed at the dark hickey on Jefferson’s throat, “--to everyone.” 

There was a long moment of silence. 

Then Jefferson laughed. 

It was his characteristic laugh, sharp and harsh. Alexander frowned, and he chewed on the inside of his mouth to keep himself from slugging the other man. 

After what seemed like an eternity, Jefferson got himself under control. But the unkind glimmer in his eyes remained, along with the smirk that made Alexander’s blood boil. Slowly, he sat upon his desk next to Madison and pressed a kiss on the other man’s cheek. He put one hand on Madison’s still-covered thigh and leaned forward, his expression predatory. Alexander forced his gaze away Jefferson’s dark hand on Madison’s white breeches, and stared into those eyes that he hated so much. 

“What are you going to say, Hamilton? You must have a whole speech planned out in your head. I’m sure it’ll be hours. Are you going to talk about how you were sneaking around the building after dark, with your ear against keyholes listening for some bad behavior? And then, in your ultimate rudeness - which, quite frankly, I can’t believe has only shown itself now - flinging the doors open to people that stand so much higher above you that you are barely worth shining their shoes?” 

“You’ll be executed,” Alexander said, his eyes narrowed. 

“As you can see, your terrifying threat has me quivering,” Jefferson gave Madison’s thigh a squeeze and then drew both his hands in to his lap. “Do you really think anyone would believe you?” 

For just a second, Alexander doubted, and Jefferson seized the opening and tore it into a chasm. 

“Let’s see,” Jefferson started, standing up and pacing slowly around his office. “Who would I believe if I was a member of the Continental Congress? On one hand, a wealthy, educated, land-owning lawyer from a good family, with a lot of property, who has been deeply involved in the construction of our new nation, including writing the Declaration of Independence. On the other hand…” he idly stroked his chin in mock-thought, “We have a bastard orphan immigrant from …. nowhere in particular, I believe it is called. Let’s of course consider that this noted bastard orphan immigrant has nothing, really. No standing, other than his current political position, which is in no way stable. No land. No money, other than the salary of his tenuous position and what his father-in-law donates because he married into a rich family, although that money is, of course, not really his because he married the _second_ daughter, as I have heard. The only thing this rat creature really does have is the support of the President. Now, I suppose that _does_ count for something, but….” 

He stretched the _but_ out for a long time, staring out the window. Only the irises of his eyes turned to look at Alexander. He had dropped the sneer for a fake-thoughtful expression, his hands folded behind his back. 

When Alexander didn’t speak, Jefferson continued, his tone still pretending to be meandering. “It is an interesting circumstance that the bastard orphan immigrant in this story should fall under….how should we say?.... a paternalistic umbrella under the president. One might even go so far as to wonder if the President really was the bastard’s father, if they were feeling particularly imaginative. Although, that the relationship between the president and the bastard is only father-and-son-like would be the most generous possibility one could imagine. If one was feeling particularly unflattering, one might even suggest that the orphan immigrant, in between writing declarations and attempting to destroy a nascent country, could provide other _services_ to the President, in lieu of his wife. Such an event would certainly put an ugly tarnish not only on the immigrant, but also on our fine and esteemed President.” Jefferson turned only his head to look at Alexander, met his eyes, and looked up and down with a look of faint disgust. “Certainly he is young and handsome enough to be adequate, if nothing else.” 

“You wouldn’t dare,” Alexander growled, and he took a step forward, not sure what to do with the rage building in his chest. 

“Why wouldn’t I?” Jefferson finally turned fully to face him, arms still behind his back. “After all, I am not the one who has barged into another man’s office and threatened to have him executed. One would think I am more than permitted to protect myself from men who can’t control their tempers.” 

“You have nothing.” 

“It doesn’t matter what I have, Hamilton. Aside from, of course, money, power, land, and your favorite --” The smile crept up on his face again. “-- _a workforce._ ” 

“Do you think I would want your slaves? The practice is disgusting and inhumane, and that you stand on the backs of these broken men to make your fortune, and that you think I would want it --” 

Alexander did not think he had ever been so angry. There had been Lee, of course. He could remember that rage, white-hot in his veins and making his heart pound. But that had been different. That had been a matter of Washington’s honor, and he had been younger. Things were different. This was different. This was making him dizzy with it, as though he had drank too much wine and needed to sit. 

“Oh please, don’t bother me with your sanctimonious nonsense. It doesn’t seem New York has any problem taking the money made with the sweat from those backs.” Jefferson offered him a dismissive shrug. He looked at Madison with a sly smile, then turned back to Hamilton. “Although you are never, on God’s green earth, going to shut that obnoxious mouth of yours, I trust I have made you forget the events you rudely interrupted. Or should I discuss with some of the other Congressmen how you and Washington stay late to _discuss monetary policy_?” 

Alexander said nothing, and glared with all his might. 

“Although, I suppose…..” Jefferson smiled wider, “No, it can’t be.” 

“What?” Alexander demanded. 

Jefferson strode towards Alexander slowly, getting closer and closer until Alexander was backed up against the door and Jefferson was well within his personal space. One of Jefferson’s hands snaked from behind his back and rested next to Hamilton’s head, leaving only one way to escape the suddenly suffocating position; the other moved with a deliberate kind of slowness, and Hamilton tracked it with wary eyes. 

One lithe finger traced down the line of Hamilton’s jaw with a deliberate, disgusting care that made his stomach curl. He felt a wave of nausea twist within him. 

“Maybe it is not Washington you seek to soothe your carnal urges.” Jefferson stroked his cheek in a way that made him suppress a shudder of revulsion. “Perhaps I could be convinced to allow you to pleasure me, if you begged sufficiently. Of course, you would have to pleasure James too. Why see a play when I could instead tie you to a chair, gag you, and dominate you until you looked more like the dirty street scum you really are? What do you think, James?”

Hamilton had nearly forgotten Madison was there. 

“I would certainly not disagree if such an action was taken,” he said, still sitting on the desk. At some point, he had put his undershirt and his vest on. “It would definitely be entertaining, and warming to the blood on such a cold night.” 

Jefferson laughed. “You’re brilliant,” he said, and then he pulled away from Hamilton to give Madison a long kiss that made Alexander’s stomach twist in a new and equally repulsive way. 

“This is your last chance,” Madison said, when they separated. His lips were slick from the kiss, and Jefferson’s spit made his chin shine. “Maybe if we’re feeling particularly generous, one of us will allow you reach release.” 

Alexander reached for the doorknob behind him and exited without another word. Jefferson’s laughter followed him like a stench. 

“See you tomorrow!” the other man yelled through the door. “You and your daddy!” 

His plan was in tatters. He would have to think of something else. 

He staunchly ignored the heat in his stomach as he made his way home, muttering and cursing to himself the whole way, and working extremely hard _not_ to imagine Jefferson and Madison right now. Madison’s bare thighs, and Jefferson’s nimble fingers, and Madison’s slick mouth, and Jefferson’s sneer, and --- 

He had work to do. He would do work. He would work until he could not keep his eyes open, and then his dreams would be of work, and nothing else.


End file.
